


Blue Rare

by devilgoat



Series: Headcheese [2]
Category: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Movies)
Genre: BDSM, Breathplay, Cock & Ball Torture, Dom/sub, Domination, Face-Fucking, Heavy BDSM, Leashes, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Other, Praise Kink, Submission, Whipping, also building a chicken coop, sub!Bubba
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 09:39:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17937365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilgoat/pseuds/devilgoat
Summary: After staying some time at the Sawyer Estate, you've become somewhat accustomed to the routines. But that in no way means you're passive about it. In fact, it seems like you're the one in charge. Especially with Bubba. And he aims to please.





	Blue Rare

**Author's Note:**

> After a hiatus I'm finally back! I've been working on this on and off for a few weeks because of lack of motivation, but it's FINALLY done. I hope to write some more soon, so we'll see. Also remember that this is a Gender Neutral reader, meaning it's written so anyone may step into the role no matter the gender. Anyways, hope you all enjoy!

You awoke to the smell of food.

The air was filled with rot, stale air, and harsh Texas sunlight that coated everything in a morning glow. And yet somehow the smell of food pierced through it all and your mouth began to fill up with saliva before your eyes had even opened.

Slowly, your eyelids peeled back. They took in the bright sunlight, and the muscles in your arms and legs stretched awake. You turned over in bed, struggling to wake yourself from your contentment. You were just about to fall back asleep when a gentle knock hit the door.

If it were just a fraction softer, you wouldn’t have heard at all. You pushed yourself up in bed and told whoever was behind the door to come in.

The door creaked open, and a large man walked through. Despite having stayed in the house for over a week now, it still shocked you to see the disorganized stitches of leathered skin pulled over Bubba Sawyer’s face. His mask was made from a person - or persons - you would never know, long dead for reasons you were only now struggling to understand.

After stumbling upon the Sawyer residence, you had found yourself face-to-face — or rather face-to-faces — with Bubba. Initial fear and anxiety transformed into pity, which in turn shifted into genuine affection. Bubba was in need of a friend, and maybe even something more. You had various chances to leave, it’s not like you were trapped or being held against your will. But you chose to stay. And it really wasn’t so bad.

Most mornings began with Bubba bringing you downstairs to the dining room to have breakfast with his family: Drayton, Nubbins, and Grandpa. They were each a character in their own right. Drayton was in charge. That was obvious. Bubba and Nubbins lived in fear of his beatings and patronization, but you noticed the slow fade of this the longer you spent in the house. He still told everyone what to do and when to do it, but he was much less likely to bring out a broomstick to get them “motivated”. It’s like if he were on good behavior because of you. However, with Drayton’s more lax behavior, Nubbins began to act out more frequently. Hyperactive, erratic, and full of neurotic energy, Nubbins was always bouncing off the walls. If he were in the room and wasn’t speaking then you knew something was wrong. He was rarely seen without a camera hanging off his neck, and he would occasionally snap photos of you when you least expected it.

Grandpa was a completely different story. At first, you thought he was a corpse, a mummified, shrunken body that they occasionally carried down from one of the rooms upstairs. But then it moved. It was rare, and only around the sight of fresh, bloody meat, of which the Sawyers dined on occasionally, but it was unmistakable. Somehow, it — _he_ , was alive. While you had your own feelings about the others, Grandpa was the one you could barely handle being around.

And then there was Bubba. Sweet, sweet Bubba.

He had entered the room with a rusted over metal tray of food. It seemed like he didn’t want you to be around his family at the moment, and it was probably for a good reason. Bubba always piled the plates as high as he could, as if he worried you would somehow starve if you didn’t have such a full, hearty meal. The kicker was that each meal was the most delicious food you had ever had up until that moment. Bubba was a gifted cook — no, he was a chef, a full-blown chef. And while it wasn’t exactly fancy, its taste always blew you away.

You perked up at the sight of him, partially because it meant food, but mostly because it was  _him._ Your heart fluttered and your body was suddenly surging with energy.

“Good morning, Bubba,” croaked your rusty throat, heavy with sleep.

He came close and set the tray on your lap. With a closer look, you saw that there was a second plate on it, one for each of you. He whined a little bit, unable to formulate words the way you did, but you had your own form of communicating. You had taken a college course in American Sign Language, and you remembered enough to be able to teach him a bit of it. He signed “ _good morning_ ”, something you had been practicing together for the last few days.

Bubba seemed a bit eager to meet you this morning, and he pointed at the food over and over, signing, “ _eat_ ”.

“Alright, alright,” you chuckled. “Join me, though.” And he obeyed. He sat next to you and took his own plate. You ate in relative, comforting silence. The only sound came from the birds outside, the generator running in the distance, and the voices and shouts that echoed from downstairs. And once you began to eat, there was no stopping you. Each bite was pure bliss, and you ate up every bit that you could. Bubba was likewise voracious, and you wondered if he truly tasted how wonderful the food was, or if he was just used to it by now.

You set down your knife and fork and sighed in contentment. “Bubba, that was seriously wonderful,” you smiled at him. “As always, of course. You’re such a great cook!” You could see the hint of red underneath his mask as he blushed. But your praise wasn’t done just yet. Despite his hand trying to shoo you and your praises away, you insisted. You put your plate aside and scooted closer. Your hand came up and gripped his shoulder. “You’re so good, Bubba.” Your smile was soft, but he was softer.

Bubba made a low, whining sound, as if he were trying to refuse your compliment, but actually greatly enjoyed it. His hands moved his plate to put on top of yours before quickly returning to his thighs, where they began to slap them lightheartedly in his excitement. He began to bounce, and his entire body was becoming lost in his eagerness. But you knew that your praises could work for other things as well. You glanced down at his pants and noticed the small bulge that pressed up against them.

It took all your strength to hold back both yourself and your smile.

“And you know what a good job means, right, Bubba?”

He clapped his hands on his thighs again and signed _eat_ once more.

“That’s right!” You nodded. And then Bubba settled into his routine. You had learned over the past week that Bubba thrived on routines, as well as rewards. It was his idea at first, and you were more than excited about it.

Bubba quickly got up from the bed and settled down on his knees in front of you. His large, chubby hands pulled down the zipper of your pants with a gentle touch you never would have expected from a man his size.

With eager hands and with some of your help, he pulled down your pants enough to expose your entirety to him. Bubba squealed just at the sight of you. While his eyes stared and his lips ran across his crooked teeth, you noticed how his hand remained in the sign for “eat”, and instinctually approached his mouth to complete the sign. His bulge had begun to strain against the front of his pants, but still wasn’t at its peak.

You parted your legs slightly and kicked off one leg of your pants so that Bubba could press his face against you. He was on you immediately, his tongue trailing it’s wet self along your length, and his plump lips pressed and sucked against your sensitive skin. As a creature of habit, Bubba began the start of his routine. First, his lips did their work.

They started at the head of your length, slowly rubbing their soft skin against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hands gripped the sheets next to you. His lips puckered around your head and sucked. You let out a quick moan and your hips bucked against his face. Greedy lips continued their movement on your skin. They puckered and kiss and pulled lightly against you. It was enough to make you leak. That was when Bubba knew that it was time for his tongue.

It slipped past his gnarled, sharp teeth and slid from the base of your length to the very tip. You could feel the rounded edges of his taste buds as they rubbed themselves against your flesh as his slobbery tongue left a trail of saliva behind. Long licks of his tongue traveled up and down your heat. His pace changed from agonizingly slow to painfully quick within seconds. It was if he wanted every part of you on his tongue as possible.

One long trail began at the bottom of you, and then slowly traveled up to the bundle of nerves that throbbed and thumped against his mouth. His tongue began to swirl around, reaching every cell of your saliva-coated skin. Bubba licked up every single drop of you that he could. His tongue hungrily lapped at you until he leaned his head forward and pressed his entire face against you. He was deep between your thighs. His tongue continued to circle your nerves until it began to descend once more. You could hear his muffled breathing and felt the hot air stick to the inside of your thighs. His hands snaked themselves between your legs and pushed them farther apart. The very tip of his tongue teased and prodded your heat until he settled on your entrance. His tongue circled it, begging to be let in.

Your hands tore themselves from the sheets of the bed to the back of his head. Your fingers twisted through clumps of dark, wavy hair that once belonged to someone else. The top of you rested against his face. While his tongue prodded at your entrance and slowly pressed itself inside of you, his unbearably soft lips pressed against your sensitive skin. His mouth was some kind of creature that seemed specially made for this sort of thing, and your moans reminded you of your own duties.

“Oh, Bubba,” you moaned. “That’s so good. More. More.” Your words shifted from breathless moans to commands. “More, Bubba. Make me cum. Be a good boy.” The hand on the back of his head squeezed and pushed him closer into you, and he let out a low squeal from your praise. His tongue worked into overdrive as it pushed itself into your depths and explored every single bit of you that it could. He consumed you in body and soul.

Bubba’s tongue occasionally removed itself from you in order to flick itself across your length. But your hand always guided him back to where you wanted him. To where you needed him.

Finally, his entire mouth acted as one, and all you could feel were the waves of pleasure that flowed from your groin and out your fingertips like numb static.

You felt it, deep in your core. It started low, like a hum, but it steadily built itself up, stacked on top of each other, and reached its peak as your hands pulled Bubba in as deep as he could go. Your hips bucked into his face as you came on him. Your juices spread across his lips and surged into his mouth as he licked and swallowed as much as he possible could from you.

“Eat up, good boy.” He didn’t remove himself until he had slid his tongue from top to bottom and only his saliva remained. Spit and cum glistened on his lips. His thick tongue shot out and cleaned up the last remaining drops of your juices. Small whimpers escaped those beautiful lips. Bubba looked up at you as if expecting something, and he was. He waited for you final praise. As you were able to feel more of your senses come back to you, you placed a hand on his cheek.

“That was very good, my sweet boy. You made me so proud.” He squealed in excitement and got up from his knees. As he stood, you could see that his erection was at full attention as it groaned and strained against the fabric of his pants.

Perfect.

Before he could make another move, you stopped him and asked him to sit down on the bed. Of course he obeyed. The tent in his pants was now all the more obvious. You got up from next to him and stood in all your pant-less glory.

“Stay still. No touching.”

Slowly, every so painfully slowly, you crept up to his lap and settled on top of his large bulge. Your entrance and groin were still slightly damp from his tongue, and you sat comfortably with your entirety pressed between his stomach and his crotch. Slowly once more, you began to grind your hips against his obvious erection. You could feel his calming warmth emanating from his pants, and your own quivering and twitching warmth slid across it. You watched his eyes as you did so. They were glued to you, slowly brushing over your frame, and heavy-lidded with lust.

Your tempo was slowly increasing. Bubba’s lips parted, and hot, heavy breaths left his throat in a slow rhythm. On instinct, his hands rose to tug at your flesh and pull you down onto him. When you noticed, you gently pushed his hands away. In a breathy moan you told him to stay still, and this time he obeyed. His fingers flowed through the sheets of the bed and began to claw and rake at the soft fabric.

Meanwhile, the thin layers of fabric that separated both of your throbbing, pulsating heat was just enough friction to cause you to twitch from overstimulation. You could feel the damp wetness from inside Bubba’s pants beginning to soak through and stick against the inside of your thigh.

But just as his breath began to quicken and his fingers tugged at the sheets on the bed, you stopped.

Bubba immediately bucked up against you, easily lifting your full weight with hips alone. He groaned and his brow furrowed behind his mask. His hands shot up once more to grab you, to knead you, but you pushed him away.

“No, no, no, Bubba,” you wagged a finger. “These are the rules for today. And if you can’t follow them, well, then you’ll be punished.”

He whined at first, obviously upset. But after a few moments he signed,  _why_? To which you responded: “Because good boys get rewarded and bad boys don’t. Which are you going to be today?”

His shoulders slumped and his chin fell to his chest.  _A good boy_ , he signed. He obviously wasn’t happy, but you wanted to test his limits, and he would be appropriately rewarded. Bubba’s head shot up.  _How long?_

“Well, how about until the end of the day?” As soon as the last word left your mouth, Bubba let out a hard huff and shook his head. The curls of his black hair bounced from side to side. You felt his thick fingers dig into the flesh and muscle of your thighs. But before he could get too strong of a grip on you, you pushed away and stood in front of him. He gazed up at you, his mouth agape and his dark eyes twinkling with wonder.

“First rule for today,” you scolded. “No touching me unless I tell you to. Second rule: no touching yourself either.” You pointed at the large bulge in his pants that refused to disappear. Bubba groaned and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He rolled his eyes so hard you worried that they were going to fall back into his head. If it weren’t for your effort in being serious, you would’ve burst out laughing at his juvenile reaction.

While obviously pouting, Bubba stood up next to you, his erection still pulsing against his pants. At his full height, he was a full head taller than you. He was tall and beefy in just the right ways. The pudge in his arms, thighs, and stomach hid the thick strength in his limbs.

_Fine_ , he signed,  _now, chickens._

“Chickens? What do you mean?”

_Help me. Chickens._

Despite the gaps in his vocabulary, you quickly realized what he meant to say. After making a mental note to have another sign lesson today —you were pretty sure you still had lesson plans in your luggage under the bed — you figured that Bubba meant you were going to help him with the construction of a new chicken coop today.

Bubba had a few chickens. Usually, they were locked up in tiny cages throughout the house, but Bubba had always been meaning to make them a proper coop. Drayton was always against it, his reasoning being that it would be a waste of time for what he only saw as food, but Bubba saw things differently. They were more than food, and even more than pets. They were his friends. They cuddled up to him and fed right out of his hand. The chickens trusted him that much. He had given them names as well, or at least tried to. His names for them came out as garbled moans and groans, but you had hoped the more signs you taught him, that he would eventually be able to tell you their names.

After learning most of the alphabet, Bubba let you know that their names were Peach, Apple, and Banana. The boy really did love his food.

And now the chickens needed a new coop. Now out of their cages, and with your presence adding some courage to Bubba’s large frame, he fought for a place to house them. Drayton tolerated the plea, but he told Bubba that he would have to be the one to do it, and that he would make no effort to help him. Bubba felt defeated, as if there was no hope now without Drayton’s support, but you told him you’d help with it. Bubba struggled to explain that it was hopeless without Drayton’s approval, but you said fuck it, why not? And told him you two would do it anyways. Bubba hopelessly moved his hands and fingers, jumbling them up in strange combinations that made no sense before you calmed him.

Communication was slowly becoming easier. You and Bubba studied your materials, and he was a very quick learner. For some reason, Bubba was unable to speak. He wanted to, and it was obvious that his words were buried right behind his tongue, but they were never able to come out just right. The closest he had gotten was his panicked gibberish whenever Drayton raised his voice at him. But now it was as if a whole new world had opened up for him. He was incredibly eager to learn, and sometimes, when you woke up in the middle of the night and turned over, you could see his hands arranging themselves in the dim light and shadows into different words and phrases.

Your heart ached for him.

“Alright, Bubba,” you smiled. “I’ll help with the chickens.” The sight of your smile made his own spring onto his face. He was excited now, which was obvious by the gentle slapping of his hands against his thighs. He waited for you to get ready before following you out the door. You took the creaky steps down, making sure not to look into the open door where Grandpa sat. Knowing that what sat in the chair was somehow still alive sent repulsed shivers down your spine.

Downstairs, it was oddly quiet. Both Nubbins and Drayton seemed to be out, and an uncharacteristic peacefulness fell over the house. It felt like you could breath again. You stopped at the foot of the stairs. You were wondering where the coop’s construction materials were when you felt Bubba’s thick chest press against your back.

He clearly wanted to touch you, to use you up, and as much as you were tempted to have him right then and there–no matter how uncomfortable to creaky floorboard were–you took a breath and stepped out of his way. Bubba’s shoulders heaved with desire, but he obeyed you as if his life depended on it.

You followed him out the front door and around the side of the house. You nearly tripped over the thick bushels of weeds and tall grass the way.

Around the back of the house was some land that had been flattened a few days before, but weeds had already started to grow through the dirt. You assessed the supplies that had been haphazardly placed against the wall of the house and tried to remember everything you had learned in shop class. College education was actually worth something at the moment, huh?

After a quick assessment, you told Bubba the plan and got to work. While you hammered some boards together for the coop, Bubba was responsible for setting up the wire fence that would encircle the area.

The hot Texan sun was bearing down on you without mercy. Sweat soaked through your clothes and dripped down your forehead as you hit nail after nail of wood together. You messed up a few times and cursed under your breath. And no matter how hard you tried to be quiet, Bubba would hear you. He would quickly drop what he was doing and come over to pat your back in comfort. No matter how upset you were, you could look into those kind eyes and calm yourself. You would give him a smile and both of you would get back to work.

But you would notice the lingering look he would give you as you bent over to nail down the boards for the ramp. The slight hardness in his pants was obvious, as well as the slight groaning sound as he watched you whack your hammer.

But it was almost done now, thankfully. You were exhausted and your mouth was dry. Bubba had finished the wire fence and was helping construct the last bit of the coop.

Finally, you were done.

It wasn’t perfect by any means. The nails were slightly uneven, and the boards weren’t uniform but it was  _something._ It was something you had made with your own two hands and you were  _proud._

“I think it’s time for the chickens, Bubba.”

He nodded at you and quickly disappeared around the side of the house. You spent a few more minutes admiring your work by yourself when you heard faint clucking and squealing coming closer. Bubba had all three chickens in his arms and was squealing lightly because of their squirming and attempts to get out of his arms. Once inside the fence, he gently placed them down. The chickens immediately began to look around their new environment. Peaches was already pecking at the dirt, while Banana was searching the inside of the coop, and Apple was content with sitting exactly where she was.

Before you could say anything, Bubba got up and left once more. You shrugged to yourself and sat down in the dirt and watched the chickens. They were so cute that you could’ve watched them for hours. Each had their own personality and you admired them. Just as you were about to get up, you saw Bubba turn the corner. With a glass of sweet tea in each hand, he went over the fence and sat down on the dirt next to you.

Beads of sweat ran down the glass he held out to you, and you took it gratefully.

You tried not to chug it down too quickly, but the sweet taste soaked into your taste buds and made you crave more. Before you knew it, it was completely gone, and you let out a satisfied sigh. Bubba watched you in contentment, and when you turned to him he gave you a beautiful snaggle-toothed smile. Not smiling back was impossible.

The both of you sat on the warm ground and watched the chickens do their thing. Bubba took his time with his tea before he set it down. Eventually, the chickens retreated into the shade of their coop. You got up, quickly brushed the dirt from the seat of your pants, and went over to check to see how well they fit. You bent over and peaked in. Perfect. They had some room amongst the straw and grass left over so they could be comfortable. A sense of pride welled up inside of you as a sense of something behind you grew as well.

A soft warmth settled on your ass. You didn’t need to turn around to know that Bubba was settling his hard-on against you. You tried to straighten yourself up, but Bubba’s weight settled on you completely as his arms wrapped around your torso and his hips bucked against you. He had you bent over the coop, and his rhythmic brushes against you excited you faster than you thought it would.

His tight grip on you kept you in place, while his hardened cock strained against his pants. It caused obvious discomfort as one hand removed itself from around you and unzipped his pants. You heard the slight jingling of his belt as his pants fell around his ankles. His hand tore at your own, desperate to feel you against his cock. He was panting hard under the hot sun, and his sticky sweat soaked through the front of his shirt and onto your back.

You felt the length of his dick against you immediately. While not the longest, Bubba made up for it with girth and ferocity. With his hand, he slapped his cock against your soft flesh before he slid it between your cheeks. You felt the head of his cock probe at your entrance and you let out a deep moan.

The sound shook you out of your lust.

It seemed like Bubba believed that he needed his reward as soon as he finished with the coop. Oh how wrong he was.

“Bubba! Hold on!” Your voice was firm enough that Bubba immediately whimpered. He stopped his movements and removed himself right away. You both pulled up your pants, however before he could fasten his belt completely, you turned around and grabbed him by the tie.

“Bubba...” you muttered in a disapproving tone, “What did I tell you? Hmm?”

Bubba didn’t try to say anything. He simply looked down and stared at you holding his tie.

“Bubba!” You caught his attention. “I told you that there were rules. No touching until I tell you. Isn’t that right?”

He nodded.

“And you broke that rule.” Your voice was firm but quickly slipped into a harsh whisper. “You broke a rule which means you must be punished.” He whimpered, but you both noticed that his erection grew stronger than ever at the thought of what might come.

“Follow me. Now.” You tugged on his tie and led him back into the house.

There was still no sign of Drayton or Nubbins inside. With a short tug, you pulled Bubba farther into the house and up the stairs.

Once in your room, you ordered Bubba to stand by the bed. He held his head down and despite his massive size he seemed to shrink. You followed him and reached underneath the old, worn mattress. Amongst the dust bunnies and bits of bones and feathers, your fingers wrapped around the handle of your luggage.

When you had first arrived at the Sawyer house, your luggage was mixed amongst the bags and things of your traveling companions. They didn’t have any use for it anymore, unfortunately, so you had decided to look through their stuff to find some more clothes to wear. That’s when you discovered Lana’s “tool kit”. It was an entire luggage case full of sex toys, blindfolds, gags, whips, chains, you name it. After giving everything a  _thorough_ rinse and clean, you decided it was time to break one of the toys out. If Bubba wasn’t going to obey you, then he had to be punished. You had given rules as his dominant, and he had broken them.

He watched you dig through the suitcase’s contents until you found what you wanted. Standing up, you ordered Bubba to undress. He did so quickly and obediently. In a few moments he was naked and bare in front of you. Despite the heat, his body shivered and shook from anticipation.

“Get on your knees.”

The floorboards creaked underneath him as his head was at level with your torso. Using the leash you had grabbed from the suitcase, you circled the leather collar around his thick neck and wrapped the short leash around your hand.

You gave him a slight tug and Bubba let out a low moan as the collar tightened against his windpipe. During the course of several minutes, you tightened and loosened his collar. You watched as his face turned red from lack of air, and just as his tongue began to loll out of his mouth, you released and watched him gasp for air.

Soon, his mouth was open and constantly panting, no matter how tight the collar was. His eyelids were growing heavy, and a dreamlike quality rested on his face. You were content with this for now, but his punishment was not over.

“Stay,” you ordered.

You let go of the leash, and Bubba’s head fell to his chest. His raspy breath was the only sound other than the creak of floorboards as you returned to the suitcase. You rifled through it once more and found the slender black riding crop.

Your hand ran down Bubba’s chest as you picked up his leash once more. You stood over him, reveling in your power. With the leash around your wrist, you held the crop in your hand. You had never used one before, so you tried your first strike against Bubba’s thigh. It made a loud whack that freaked you out a bit, and Bubba’s flinch and moan added to it even more.

“Oh shit, are you okay, Bubba?”

He gave you a quick nod and signed  _yes._ Then,  _more._ You hid your smile from him and continued. You whipped at his thighs, his back, his ass. You hit him over and over until large welts began to form on all of his fleshy parts. You only moved on once an area was red and worn to your satisfaction. Both cheeks of his ass were as red as can be, and raised bumps of the crop sprouted up everywhere. You held on tightly to his leash, occasionally pulling hard at the strongest slap that you could make.

Whack after whack resounded through the air. Bubba was a moaning mess. He was drooling, his mouth hung open, and his cock twitched and jerked at every bit of sensation against him.

Bubba was becoming unraveled before your eyes. It was addicting. 

Your returned to your position in front of him, and looked at his twitching, drooling cock stand firm. You leaned over slightly and gently ran the edge of the crop up his shaft. His body began to shake and his drool began to hit the floor underneath him. The flat edge of the crop rested on the exposed head of his dick and smeared his pre-cum. The crop slid down the bottom of his shaft, and with a quick flick of your wrist, you whipped his cock. 

Bubba’s entire body shook with the sensation. His shoulders hunched, his cock jumped, and his throat let out a pained, ragged moan. His body fell forward until he was on his hands and knees. His hips bucked once, and a strained moan fell through grated teeth.

You were shocked for a moment. You didn’t realize it would affect him so much, but you were more than pleased. You used the opportunity to smack him on the ass a few more times for good measure. With a hand holding the leash back, pulling his head up, you put the crop down for a second and spanked him. Your palm stung from the force, but the redness of his cheeks was well worth it. Bubba’s moans flowed out freely. A pool of drool settled under him as it rolled down the corner of his mouth and onto the floor. Sweat rolled down his back. After a few strong spanks, you pulled on Bubba’s collar and brought his head up.

“Up,” you demanded, and Bubba resumed his position on his knees.

Now it was time for his...services. With the leash wrapped tightly around your wrist and hand, you pulled Bubba’s face close to you. A gentle hand brushed his cheek. His teary-eyed look sent pangs of sadness into your heart, but a much stronger chill through your spine and crotch. Your gentle hand pulled away and fiddled with the front of your pants. You pushed them down until they fell at your ankles. Your groin was pulsating from need.

Bubba’s eyes immediately locked onto the sight in front of him. His tongue shot out from between his lips and licked them in hunger. A croak escaped his throat. His hands rose to touch you, to feel you.

“No,” you smacked his hands away, “No hands. Only your mouth.” Bubba let out an excited whine. His cock bobbed from the strength of your words. His soft lips were on you without hesitation. Bubba’s lips were plump and full, and his eagerness resonated through their delicate flesh as they spread and rubbed against your thighs, your hips, your stomach, until they feel back down to between your legs. His tongue flicked past crooked teeth as it ran down your entire length. You felt a shiver flow through you, but you refused to let him know how much he was affecting you. At least for now.

Your hand fell behind his head and grasped at the dark, curly hair that bobbed with his movements. His entire mouth explored your length, his thick, heavy tongue gliding up and down before it ended with a circular twirl around you. Bubba let out a small huff before his entire mouth surrounded you. All you could feel was the intense, wet heat of his mouth. All you could think about was fucking his mouth as hard as you could. All you wanted was more and more and more. So much of you went into his mouth and onto his tongue.

It was becoming too much. Way too much. You felt a tension in the pit of your stomach and electricity flowed down through your groin onto each lick and touch of Bubba’s tongue. You grunted as you felt waves of pleasure flow through you.

He lapped eagerly, drinking up every bit of your juices that he could. You twitched and jumped as he milked your orgasm for as long as he could.

In that moment, you were incredibly grateful that you had the house to yourselves, for the long string of moans and screams echoed throughout the rooms and halls as you hit your crescendo. Both of your hands were around Bubba’s head, holding his lips, throat, and tongue in place as he swallowed up your juices as if he were a starving man in the desert.

He reached up to hold onto your legs to hold them in place, and you let him. You let him explore every inch of you until he was completely satisfied. And once he was, he pulled away from you, leaving your groin slick with saliva and the last remnants of your cum.

Bubba panted heavily, and his tongue struggled to settle inside of his mouth after all of its use. Your blank mind was slowly filling up once more. Your legs grew weak underneath you, but you were determined to finish things. Or rather, finish Bubba, in a sense. You took a step back and took in Bubba’s body in front of you.

His chest and shoulders were heaving from the strain. Grunts and puffs escaped from his throat as unintelligible words slurred out from him. His eyes began to roll to the back of his head. His head itself began to loll to the side. Sweat ran down his hairy body.

He was an image of pure submission.

His cock was standing at full attention. The head was turning darker in color from the strain of trying not to cum, while his shaft had a bright red mark where you had hit him with the riding crop.

It seemed like it didn’t register in his mind as you walked around him to pick up the crop once more. He was in a daze of sub-space pleasure. His knees were growing red from being on the hardwood floors for so long. The collar’s leash dangled over his chest.

With the crop placed carefully against his cheek and your voice as gentle as you could make it, you said, “Sit up straight, baby boy.”

Like a flip of a switch, Bubba straightened out his back. His eyelids were still slightly droopy over his eyes, but he was at complete attention. His strained breathing caused a surge of sadism to grow inside of you. 

You led the crop slowly down his face to his neck, chest, stomach, and finally down to the base of his cock. With a painful, agonizingly slow movement of your wrist, you raised the crop to Bubba’s tip. His cock jumped and pulsed with desperation. A soft sigh escaped his lips as his chest shuddered with delight. It was pleasant for just a moment, and then you flicked your wrist. 

The crop whipped roughly against the side of his cock. The sheer pain of it almost caused him to double over once more. 

“Sit up straight,” you demanded. Bubba let out a harsh grunt that faded into a whimper. But he listened. His back straightened and his eyes focused on you. One look into his eyes and you knew he was pleased. Not only pleased, but was desperate for his release. You knew that he had never felt sensations quite like this before, and now he couldn’t live without it. 

Light mumblings escaped his lips as he tried to form his words, but his exhaustion was too much for him. His hands raised and her pressed their closed fingertips together. 

More. 

More more more more. 

He signed it over and over again. Bubba was moaning. Desperate. Terrified. Needy. 

You reviled in his submission and expressed it through a nefarious smirk. 

Whap!

Another slap of your crop against his cock. Bubba nearly screamed through gritted teeth. His cock throbbed from pain and pleasure. You waited for a moment so that he could compose himself. He let out gasping breaths before he signed  _more_ again.

Another whack. His cock was bright red from pain and he cried out in terrible agony. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. _More_. 

“Beg.” 

Bubba let out a desperate moan.

_Please. More. Please please please. More. More. Please more._

Satisfied, you whipped his cock one final time. His cock jerked upwards only once before hot strings of cum erupted from inside. Bubba let out harsh, jagged moans as he fell over and his hands hit the floor with a solid thump. White streaked the wood underneath him. You leaned down and grabbed him by the leash, forcing him to look at you in the eyes as the last few pumps of cum oozed out from him. 

Bubba’s eyes had glazed over in contentment. He trembled with pleasure. He was satisfied. As were you. 

With honeyed words, you asked him to stand up. He obeyed. 

You were by no means a short person, but Bubba towered above you and it felt like he could engulf you at any moment. But he was calm, obedient, and thankful like a lost puppy. 

“That’s my boy,” you cooed, and kissed him on the lips. 


End file.
